The Stakeout
by shortcurlytop99
Summary: Jane Brewster has a date with the mysterious guy next door who, sadly, happens to be a vampire. Charley, Amy, and Evil Ed decide to do a good old fashion stakeout but things don't exactly go according to plan. Rated T for swearing.
1. Chapter 1

"Mom, you're not serious. _Please_ tell me you're not serious."

"Gee, Char, thanks for the confidence boost…"

"Mom, I'm not kidding. This is a BIG mistake."

"Charley, it's a date. I'm not becoming engaged to the guy or anything."

"That's the thing! Your going on a date with…"

Charley bit his tongue and winced when he felt the blood flood his mouth. He wanted to say that his mother had officially lost her mind when she decided to accept a date on the Strip with the killer vampire next door. But this uncomfortable truth was only known by Charley…well, Charley and Evil. Again, Charley couldn't help but raise his eyes to the heavens. Evil sure knew about Jerry alright. Sometimes Charley worried that's all Evil bothered with these days. Obsessed with the guy next door…if only, Charley thought morosely as he watched his mother reapply yet another shade of lipstick, Jerry was only just a sleaze ball and not the most fearsome thing Charley had ever seen in his life. How simple it could have been. But no: somehow the Twilight warped universe had deemed it so that vampires _had_ to be involved. Curse Stephanie Meyer.

"There," Jane Brewster straightened up and flashed Charley a smile, "Teeth?"

"Lipstick free," Charley replied glumly.

"How do I look?"

Charley had to admit: his mother had taken the time to look at least somewhat glamorous for her first date since…well, since dad left. Clad in a flatteringly cut red dress, Jane looked ready to dance the tango. Charley shuddered slightly: he really didn't need the mental image of his mother and Jerry Dandridge doing the box step.

"What?" his mom's face fell as she caught the shudder, "is it too low cut?"

Actually, yes, but Charley knew that pointing out this fact would only cause a panic and possibly some violence.

"You look great," which was true but not that Charley wanted Jerry to the recipient of this extra effort on his mom's part. Jane beamed and busily returned to the mirror, readjusting her hair for the umpteenth time. Charley glanced at his watch. Mr. Night Stalker liked dillydallying, didn't he? Probably bleaching his tie clean of Mrs. Robinson's blood.

"What you up to tonight, honey?" Jane questioned as she positioned herself on the edge of the bed. Her strappy high heels, the ones she saved for really important clients looking for real estate in Nevada, sat by her feet like happy kittens waiting to be pampered. Charley shrugged,

"Dunno. Finish up some homework maybe?" Unlikely but it was worth pointing out.

"Good for you. Get it done so you have the weekend free. What time is it?"

"Quarter to. You know what they say about men who can't keep on time…"

"Oh, stop it. I'm sure Jerry's right on his way. He lives next door, for goodness sake!"

What a pity. Charley sighed openly and looked longingly at the window,

"Where you two going anyway? You look ready to go dancing."

"A girl can dream, huh? No. Jerry said he knew this really nice Italian place off the Strip. Good food and good service, he promised."

And Jerry would know all about the service, wouldn't he? For all Charley knew, he probably had a mental menu of ethnicities instead of just Type O negative: Italian, French, Indian…maybe they all had different flavors. Charley could easily picture Jerry ordering a plate of meatballs while calculating his chances of getting to the chef before closing time.

"Sounds…cool," Charley managed and watched wearily as his mom tugged on her shoes. Barefoot she still stood a few inches taller than he. Now, he had to look up to meet her eyes.

"I left a twenty for you to order a pizza, okay? I shouldn't be out too late. Jerry promised to have me home before midnight."

Charley swallowed and tried to banish the image of his mother stumbling home in the dark with bite marks on her neck.

"Yeah…mom, is it okay if I ask Amy to come over? You know, for a movie or something?"

"Of course," Jane smiled and tilted her head quizzically, "Just a movie though? Be a gentleman, Charley, and take her out: it's the girl's birthday, after all."

Charley froze.

"Sorry?"

"It's the fourteenth, right? Isn't it Amy's eighteenth?"

Oh shit.

The sound of a door slamming jolted Charley out of his daze and had his mind on fast forward: Amy, dinner, eight o clock—an hour ago. He was a dead man.

"Charley Brewster!"

Charley unconsiousley recoiled from the spitting anger in his girlfriend's voice and resisted the urge to hide behind his mother as Amy, looking particularly gorgeous in a slinky black cocktail dress, entered the room in a storm of fury. Jane looked between them both in concern.

"Um, Charley…"

"Don't even try to defend him, Mrs. Brewster!" Amy snarled, eyes locked on Charley the way a snake might lock eyes with the mouse it was about to feed on, "Motherhood is about protecting your children but, I swear to God, Charley is going to need the Secret Service of Nevada if he's going to get out of this one alive."

"Amy, babe, I…" Charley tried but was cut off by Amy's uncontrollable growl of, "Shut up, Brewster."

"Charley, what the hell did you do?" Jane asked frantically, stepping between them as Amy advanced.

"I…"

"I'll tell you what he did, Mrs. Brewster," Amy barked, crossing her arms and giving Charley the most murderous look he had ever seen her erect in his presence, "on my birthday, he stood me up. At the fanciest hotel in Las Vegas with a reservation that called for two. The whole staff knew it was my birthday and I had to sit there, humiliated, when they gave me the love boat banana split. For two," she emphasized with narrowed eyes.

Charley could only guess where that banana split ended up.

"So I came here. I guessed Charley could only be, you know, in a coma or suffering multi-personality disorder or being dead to have forgotten about a day he's been planning for weeks."

"Amy, you have to calm down."

"I'm calm, Charley. Now, anyway."

"Really?" she didn't look it. Her cheeks were flushed bright pink and her hands were balled into fists. Jane raised an eyebrow.

"Amy, honey, why don't you go back downstairs and fix yourself a cup of tea: I'll be down in a minute."

"Sure." Amy said tightly, "that sounds great, Mrs. Brewster. But would you mind if I finished something up first?"

"Finish what up?" Charley and Jane asked in unison.

"This,"

Without warning, Amy flung herself at Charley and wrapped her small hands around his throat. Reeling back into the dresser, Charley tried to disengage from Amy's passionate attempt at strangling him while at the same time not flinging her into a wall. It turned out his mom had thought ahead and easily pushed the two of them apart.

"Amy, that's enough. I know Charley was being an idiot but that doesn't mean you can physically attack him."

"He deserved it," Amy shrugged and pushed her hair back, "But I'm good. It's out of my system. I wasn't really going to hurt him," she added but neither Charley nor Jane looked convinced. With a smile in Jane's direction, Amy left the room. Charley could hear her clump down the stairs and, a short time later; turn on the kettle in the kitchen. Jane looked at him.

"Really, Charley? Her birthday?"

"I forgot,"

"You planned it since the beginning of the month!"

"I know,"

"You have some sweet talking to do, my boy."

"I know."

"She's scornful mad."

"I saw. And felt," Charley touched his throat bemusedly. He hoped she wouldn't leave bruises.

"Go downstairs and make nice with her. Jerry's going to be here any minute." Jane fanned herself nervously and picked up her eyeliner with doubtful fingers. Charley took the tiny stick from her and placed it back in its box.

"Your good, mom."

"Thanks, Char." It was sincere this time.

"Anyone home?"

Charley's mouth opened in surprise. Ed?

"Hi, Ed!" Jane called, catching Charley's eye with a _What the Hell _look before jerking her head toward the door. Without another word, she departed to the bathroom.

Charley made it to the landing and stared at Ed. His childhood friend was wearing a band t-shirt he had bought forever ago and his glasses were askew.

"What are you doing here?" he asked and the question sounded like an accusation. How dare you come back? Who said you belonged back here?

Ed didn't miss the tone and leaned casually against the railing. He knew this house better than he knew his own probably.

"Coming to see if you wanted to hang out," his eyes darkened on the last two words and Charley felt he was right in assuming that "hang out" was code for "discuss the Jerry problem".

"I can't, man. Amy's here and…" Charley glanced up as said Amy came to stand in front of Ed. Her face was carefully composed.

"Hi, Ed." She greeted icily. Ed nodded coldly in acknowledgement before glancing back at Charley.

"Where's your mom?"

"Getting ready for her date," Charley bit his lip and plunged on before he could take it back, "with Jerry,"

It was incredible, really, how far the human eyes could bulge and how far the human jaw could drop. Ed looked close to having a stroke.

"_With Jerry?"_

"What's the problem?" Amy asked, looking between them suspiciously, "your mom is allowed to date, you know."

"Not date a v…" Ed checked himself barely in time before fixing Charley with a meaningful look, "no way, man."

"Well, she is. And here she comes." Charley plastered on a huge silencio-on-the-Jerry-problem clown grin as he saw his mother descend the stairs and place a manicured hand on his shoulder. She was looking concerned under her casual smile.

"Nice to see you, Ed. Your folks doing well?"

"Swimmingly," Ed swallowed, "You look nice, Mrs. Brewster,"

"Why thank you, Ed. At least I know that might be a slightly less biased opinion than that of my son."

"Um…Mrs. Brewster, are you really going out with Jerry Dandridge tonight?" Ed shifted foot to foot and tried to meet Jane's eye.

"Yes, a little strange, huh? It never crossed my mind that he thought about me that way. He'd always been friendly but distant, you know? Ah well. Funny how people always put up fronts for others."

"Yeah, real funny."

"I hope you enjoy your date, Mrs. Brewster," Amy looked at Charley knowingly, "see you at school, Charley."

"Amy, don't be like this. We'll go out. I'll force us into a even fancier hotel. I'll buy you, like, a dozen banana splits and you can force feed them to me in punishment. Just…wait, okay?"

"I waited for an hour already, Charley."

"I know. And I'm sorry."

"On my birthday, Charley."

"I know. And I'm sorry."

"On her birthday? Man, that sucks," Ed remarked sympathetically and Amy nodded vigorously in agreement.

"See, Ed agrees with me."

"Maybe Ed should go home." Charley hissed from behind a slightly demented smile.

"Maybe Charley should listen to Ed and hang out," Ed replied with equal intensity.

"Maybe Charley should hang out with his girlfriend," Amy suggested.

"Maybe Charley should kick Ed out of his house and take Amy out for dinner and leave his poor mother in peace," Jane kicked in. A rough knocking at the door made all four of them jump.

"That's him," Jane smoothed down her skirt and checked her breathing, "Okay, Janie girl," she muttered to herself, so low Charley could hardly register the words, "it's just like riding a bike. Get on that bike, girl."

"Hello," Jerry was clad, as usual, in black. Only his skin seemed to stand out from the night. Jane straightened her shoulders,

"You ready?"

"Of course," Jerry peered behind her and met Charley's eyes. Charley felt his stomach flip in fear.

"Charley," he greeted with a nod. Charley didn't bother nodding back. He glanced at his mom.

"Only till midnight, right?" he questioned. Jane looked surprised.

"Around midnight. Charley," she looked back at Jerry, who previously had fixed Charley with an unsmiling glare and had switched back into an easy grin when Jane had regarded him again, and pursed her lips, "is everything alright?"

"Peachy," Charley lied, "have fun, mom."

"Thanks, jellybean." Relief dawned over her face and soon the door was shut behind them after Jerry's casual farewell consisting of the words, "I'll play nice with her, no worries."

As soon as the door shut, Ed grabbed Charley's arm and shook him as if trying to shake the reason back into him.

"Man, what's wrong with you! You just let your mom go out alone with a psychopath!"

"No, I'm not." Charley reached for his hoodie and cell phone, tucking the latter into his pocket, "come on."

"Are we doing a stakeout?" Ed sounded impressed.

"That and making sure he doesn't get too close to my mom," _close enough to bite_ he added mentally.

"Are you two insane?"

Both boys paused as they slowly registered Amy blocking the door. Her face was a mask of shock and anger.

"No way are you going to spy on your mom's date!"

"Yes, we are, Barbie," Ed snapped, pulling on his jacket, "because her date just happens to be a total lunatic!"

"Charley," Amy pleaded, crossing her arms in front of her chest, "please, you have to see how stupid this sounds."

"It's not and, Amy, I know I promised I'd take you out for your birthday. I will. But I really need your help."

"Charley, Jerry's just some guy next door. You're blowing this way out of proportion…"

"He's not just some guy, Amy." Charley took her hands as a gesture of begging, "He's bad news. Really bad news. I'm not doing this to pull a stunt on my mom or to stand you up. I'm doing this to protect my mom."

"Believe him," Ed advised unnecessarily from the now open door, "he doesn't mess with shit when it comes to his mom."

"I know," Amy snarled in return. She met Charley's eyes and he breathed a silent sigh of relief: she was pissed and confused but she was going to help him. She wasn't going to bail.

"You owe me," she whispered as she buttoned up her cardigan. Charley nodded as he followed Ed out the door to his mom's car. Charley paused to lock the door behind him: he didn't care if Jerry freaking Dandridge didn't have an invitation. That couldn't stop him from breaking down the door as an invitation for the other human sleaze balls that got a kick out of robbing peoples' homes.


	2. Chapter 2

Italia Frankie's was located just where Jane had described: a side street that looked dim in comparison with the bright lights of the Strip. Charley's hands were freezing (partly out of the clammy foreboding that had taken up deep in his chest and partly because Evil had turned up the AC so high it was like they were driving an icebox instead of a corolla) and he couldn't even touch the Big Mac that still sat wrapped up in his lap. Ed had insisted on McDonalds, his reasoning being that a stakeout could not be possible without fast food. Amy had barely eaten a leaf of her chicken salad and had been unnaturally soft spoken the entire ride. Only Ed had supplied most of the conversation which amounted mainly to his theories on how to kill Jerry and how tasty the Italian restaurant food really was.

"I bet you he took her here so she could get food poisoning. That would be the perfect opportunity for him to carry her back to his lair and, like, take her hostage and stuff."

"My mom's too practical for that," Charley offered mutedly, "she'd call a cab, sue the restaurant, and insist on never seeing the Jerry again because of the embarrassment she caused."

"Maybe he'll drug her," Ed mused.

"Stop it," Amy groaned from the backseat, "what exactly are you trying to get at here?"

Ed was silent. Charley could feel Amy's eyes on him.

"Charley?" her voice was too quiet. "Charley, this isn't about the vampire thing, is it?"

"You told her?" Ed squawked, choking on his fries. Amy looked at him distastefully.

"Of course he told me. I'm his girlfriend, remember?"

"I thought you said this was just between us!" Ed's eyes screamed betrayal and Charley chose instead to stare out his window. Frankie's looked uncomfortably similar to the restaurant from the Godfather, he decided. Though he doubted any mafia men could be more dangerous than Jerry. He half hoped there would be a shootout, just so it got his mom out and Jerry, if miracles really did happen, a wooden bullet in his heart. If only.

"If we want to hear what their talking about," Charley advised, ignoring both of them, "we'd better get inside the restaurant. You have a plan, Evil?"

"The backdoor," Ed murmured as he unbuckled his seatbelt and finished off the rest of his fries, "that way we can get in without either of them seeing us."

"What about the kitchen staff?" Amy asked. Ed scowled like this one question was an insult to his strategizing skills.

"It doesn't lead into the kitchens. It leads out beside the bathrooms."

"How do you know?" Amy questioned, looking at Ed in confusion. Ed turned a slight shade of pink.

"I went here once for a birthday party a while ago. There was a complication of a personal, err, nature."

"He had bad pizza the night before and shitted his pants," Charley supplied, opening the passenger door and abandoning his Big Mac to a fate of sitting on the dashboard, "Allen Mole, third grade, TMNT theme,"

"She didn't need to know the details," Ed growled and Charley could see Amy biting back a smile.

The back door unfortunately had been locked. This was not according to Ed's plan and rendered him mentally stuck on the problem. It took them twenty minutes, back inside the car, to wait for someone to open it. Thankfully, the car next to theirs (which had been habituating a couple in the final throes of a rather passionate make out session) revealed a staff worker who unlocked the back door and propped it open as he and the waitress reentered the restaurant. Ed led them back to the door and they successfully entered, pressing their bodies against the wall as they listened in on the dinner conversation. Charley couldn't believe it: Jerry and his mother were the only customers!

"He's good," Ed murmured, slinking behind Charley as they took up position behind a potted plant near the washrooms, "this place is very private. It only has waiters in and out. No one at the bar. They're perfectly alone."

"Shh!" Amy hissed, eyes locked on Jerry and Jane's table, "I can't hear."

All three of them dissolved into silence as they strained to catch the drifting current of conversation between Jerry and Charley's mother. It was a long time before their chit chatting got interesting: Charley was fairly sure Ed had dozed off once or twice and Amy had already sat down because her legs were going numb. The conversation had, until now, consisted of property prices, construction on the Strip, economic troubles, the tragic life of Lindsey Lohan…Charley was afraid he'd start snoring and attract their attention. Finally though, finally, God decided to be merciful and bless the three of them with overhearing a more personal turn in the never ending babble over (like Charley guessed) Jerry's meatballs and Jane's lasagna.

"So you and Charley live alone?" Jerry asked smoothly, taking a gentle sip of wine.

"Yeah. It's great. He's a really great kid."

"I'm sure he is," Jerry said with a velvety tone that made Charley want to throw up, "but it must get lonely. Your husband bailed, Charley told me,"

Charley had told him no such thing and had to bite his bottom lip to keep in the angry noise rising in his throat. Jane looked taken aback.

"Charley told you that?"

"Well, in not so quite harsh terms but you get the idea."

"Well, yes…but it's been fine. We've managed on our own a while now so its not too dramatic an adjustment."

"You manage…" Jerry repeated, his eyes boring into hers like black tunnels, "you manage being alone, without someone to share a bed with every night."

"Okay…" Jane gulped down her own wine to, Charley guessed, further evade the awkward statement, "that got a little personal…"

"But it's true, isn't it?"

"I suppose," Jane replied stiffly.

"And…" Jerry leaned forward and Charley could see, with quite a large dosage of disgust, Jerry's foot glide up Jane's calf and approaching dangerously close to her upper thigh, "I know your nervous. I could see it in your eyes when I picked you up."

"I'm not nervous."

"You lied just then. I'm very good at spotting liars, Jane. I've had good practice."

"Okay, so I'm nervous. Big whoop. You going to kill me for it?"

Charley could feel Ed flinch beside him and Amy too looked a little disturbed at Jerry's too sharp smile in response to Jane's words.

"You're very sensitive. I like that."

"I'm not sensitive. I'm being honest."

"I like that too."

"I know nothing about you." Jane blurted, "All you do is ask questions about me. What about you?"

Jerry leaned back, his foot slowly returning to the ground when he saw Jane had not taken the bait,

"I'm not very interesting."

"Hogwash. You're the most interesting person on our street. At least answer one question for me: how old are you?"

Jerry tilted his head and picked up his fork wistfully. After a few minutes of twirling his spaghetti around his plate, he looked up.

"How old do you think I am?"

"Mid thirties,"

"Ouch,"

"Am I off?"

"By a few hundred years,"

Jane froze. And then slowly smiled, giggling a little. Jerry smiled back.

Charley felt like he was going to be sick.

"Alright," Amy whispered, checking her watch, "I agree with you: the guy's a bit creepy and is clearly looking to feel up your mom. Can we go now? Someone's bound to catch us. We've been behind this plant for, like, an hour already."

"Okay," Charley shook out each foot as they were already being attacked by internal pins and needles, "Evil, come on."

"But…"

"Amy's right: we better scram before…"

All three of them froze as Jerry's voice floated over them from the dining area.

"Give me a minute, Jane. I just need to step out for a sec."

"Yeah, sure you do, you little fuck," Ed muttered under his breath, "Go for a smoke, make a call, eat a pedestrian…all cool, man. Everyone likes a little B positive before tiramisu."

"Shut up," Charley snarled. His heart was beating way up near his throat. Shakily, he took a step forward. His mom…she had to know…now or never. Now before it was too late…

"Charley, come back" Amy hissed, she and Ed were still crouched behind the conveniently large potted plant.

"No, I have to warn my mom." Charley insisted, moving away from Ed's pleading eyes and Amy's murderous glare. Charley turned quickly around only to walk into the one person he had been avoiding all night.

"_Gah_…" Charley exclaimed involuntarily.

"C'mere" Jerry growled, grabbing Charley by the throat and quite literally throwing him into the men's restroom.

A handful of strangers, all of them wait staff, followed Charley's airborne launch from the open door into the cinderblock wall of the washroom with bulging eyes from their various positions at urinals (a couple in the middle of finishing up their business) and sinks. Almost absently Charley noticed the smell of cigarettes. The awed stares were intensified as Jerry advanced towards Charley's slumped body and some faces were flickering with fear, torn between coming to Charley's defense and just getting the hell out a potentially threatening situation. As it turned out, the choice was made for them: at Jerry's animalistic snarl that Charley supposed translated into, "get out", all the men bolted for the door in under ten seconds: the men at the urinals were in real danger of castrating themselves as they hurried to cover their private parts and still depart in good enough time to avoid, like Charley, being alone in a room with Jerry. All too soon, Charley and Jerry were the only people in the washroom. Jerry locked the door.

"You have some nerve, guy." Jerry commented, watching as Charley righted himself, "and not to mention a healthy dose of idiocy." He tilted his head to one side, dark eyes inquisitive, "what are you doing, Charley? Where can you possibly be going with this?"

"Stay away from my mom," Charley warned and was dismayed to note that his voice, even to his own ears, sounded feeble and child like. Jerry laughed and Charley could hardly blame him.

"She seems to be doing fine, enjoying a real man's company instead of the presence of that reject father of yours."

Charley felt his jaw clench. Sure, Charley's dad had all the qualities that set a certain prerequisite of nailing him as a dickhead. But he didn't need Jerry to point that out to him.

"I wouldn't be too confident in your wooing abilities, Jerry." Charley insisted huskily, rubbing his aching shoulder, "The runaways are marriage material. Sleazy douche-bags with gym muscles are for rebounds."

Charley wasn't awfully surprised when Jerry's fist met his face. The impact, though, was astounding. The punch was packed with enough force to a) fracture Charley's nose and b) snap is head back so hard and far that it cracked the bathroom mirror behind him.

Charley fell to the floor, just barely catching himself from doing a face plant. There were black spots in his vision and his nose throbbed and blood, _his_ blood, stained the otherwise pristine white tile. A swift kick to his side sent Charley sprawling and gasping for air.

"Insulting a vampire, kid? Van Helsing you are definitely not."

"w-what?" Charley asked dizzily, his breathing hard and labored.

"Van Helsing, Charley," Jerry repeated, kneeling down so he was at eye-level with Charley's crumpled form, "a vampire slayer."

"Hugh Jackman?"

Through the haze that was starting to appear in the edges of his vision and starting to submerge his eardrums, Charley could hear Jerry's exasperated sigh. Lifting him as though Charley was nothing a but a small child, Jerry roughly pushed him into a relative standing position against the sinks.

"No, Bram Stoker's Dracula, you fool. Literature is wasted on today's youth." Jerry griped.

"Give it a rest, Grandpa," Charley snapped, regaining some perception of reality, "it's not like I haven't heard the 'life is wasted on youth' speech before."

Jerry leans in close to Charley and let his pale hands snake forward and grab Charley's throat (a much more effective version of Amy's earlier attack) and easily cut off his oxygen which, you know, wasn't good.

"I just want you to know that I hate you. No. Not hate. Loathe. Despise. Otherwise wish dead. And nothing and I can assure you I mean nothing would bring me more fucking pleasure than killing you slowly, right here, right now." Jerry spoke slowly, almost seductively, and Charley believed every word that passed through his mouth. The grip on his throat had loosened just so his lungs collapsed in relief, "But, upon great reflection and my better judgment, I won't. I want you alive, Brewster." Jerry whispered, his phantom breath cold in Charley's ear, "alive to watch everyone around you die and finally, when everyone you know is dead, only then will I have you."

Charley swallowed painfully and felt genuine chills of fear run up and down his body.

"You can't stop me, Charley. You can't stop me from killing your dorky best friend, your clueless mother or your outrageously hot girlfriend."

"I will end you." Charlie promised, his voice quiet and slightly raspy thanks to Jerry's 'let's throttle Charley' episode. Jerry's smile was all sharp white teeth; a predator's smile.

"Will you now?"

"Everyone will know who you are. Ed already knows. And Amy too. It's only a matter of time before my mom sees through your shit. I will make sure you never hurt anyone, least of all my family."

"And you will fail." Charley flinched when he felt Jerry's teeth graze the cartilage of his ear, a touch that seemed underwhelming compared to Jerry's body weight absolutely pinning Charley underneath him. It was disconcerting to note, close as he was to him, that Jerry hadn't actually breathed for a whole minute.

The door suddenly swung open and Jerry's head snapped in the direction of the intruder, snarling like a wildcat.

"Charley?" the voice, although frightened, had steel strength running underneath it. Amy was standing in the door way, her blond locks in disarray and her blue eyes wide and bright. Ed was hovering behind her and looking impressed.

"What did she do? Break the fucking door down?" Jerry muttered, low enough only for Charley to hear.

"Hairpin, asshole," Amy declared, smirking triumphantly and apparently overhearing Jerry's comment, not as inaudible as Charley originally thought.

"That and Google." Ed added, holding up his phone as evidence. Amy's sideways glare was enough to silence him from further commentary. When her eyes settled on Charley, they widened in shock.

"Charley? What happened?"

Jerry stepped away from Charley and glided past Amy and Ed who rushed into the washroom to catch a slowly sliding charley from crashing to the floor. Jerry's dark silhouette disappeared from view, not without a final mocking salute directed and only seen by Charley.

"Charley?" Amy asked again, gently touching the sides of Charley's battered face and tilting it towards her. "What happened?"

"Jerry happened." Charley said. The three of them were silent; there was no need for further explanation.


End file.
